Let People Serve Thee
by Meneldur
Summary: What is the pride of Azza to the burning ambition of Kushiel's Scion? Pre-series, rated T for... being the Kushiel series, you know?


**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. I am merely a humble beggar, sampling from the table of Jacqueline Carey, who must dwell with the angels she writes about. I gain no profit from this work beyond the joy I had in writing it.  
**Notes**: Will be posted on under my username Meneldur and on Elua's Children here on LiveJournal.  
So, this is my version of how Melisande recruited the Maignard clan to her service. It's not exactly as I wanted it, but I think (and so my cousin reassures me) it works well enough. Melisande is quite young here, so that accounts for being rather more verbose and nice than we see her, and of course, she wanted Victoire to agree willingly. The title (and Melisande's quote) come from Genesis XXVII, 29, Isaac's blessing to Jacob: "Let people serve thee, and nations bow down to thee: be lord over thy brethren, and let thy mother's sons bow down to thee: cursed be every one that curseth thee, and blessed be he that blesseth thee." Quite apt, I think. I chose the name 'Francois' for Victoire's son, because it means 'free', and I thought it would be logical for Victoire to defy Casimar in that way, among others. Once again, much thanks to my dearest cousin, jeweledhibiscus, who took the time to look this over even in a very busy stage of her life.  
As always, feedback is solicited and appreciated.

'Let People Serve Thee'

Victoire Maignard sat on the steps at the back of her house, resting in the sunshine. It was a beautiful spring day, and the sun warmed her old bones and aching knuckles. She had good reason to be happy; _he_ was dead. It was a victory, even if a small one. But now, she was free of his shadow, free of his vengeance; he could not search for her and try again to claim her son, nor could he take anything from her ever again. In that, at least, she had won. For everything he took, he could not gain what he had wanted. Sometimes she wondered if it was worth it, all for the sake of her pride; but then she remembered her beautiful Francois, and thought of him being raised by that bastard, and had no doubts her choice was the right one.

She sighed, and prepared to rise; though she was tired, there was yet more laundry to do, and the sunlight was still not so common so as to allow her to waste time. Even as she rose, she heard a voice calling for her, and turned towards the sound, seeing Isabelle running up to her.

"Grandmama, grandmama", Isabelle practically shouted in eagerness and excitement. "There is a lady wanting to speak with you! Papa said to come get you, are you coming?"

Victoire smiled at her youngest descendant's excitement, and nodded. "Of course, Isabelle. Did she say what she wanted?"

Isabelle shook her head, black curls bouncing around her face. "No, she only said she wants to speak with you. But she must be rich, because she wears gold and gems, and she is even more beautiful than Papa!"

For a moment, Victoire had a horrible suspicion, but she immediately dismissed it. No doubt it was merely some minor noble, who wanted to hire the service of a washing house for her household. Her fortunes would slowly rise again, and there would be no one to bring her down this time.

But as she came into the washing-room, she saw her instincts had been correct. Her heart filled with rage as she saw the elegant woman standing in the middle of it, conversing with her son. Her hair fell to her waist in a midnight fall, and her eyes were a twilight blue that captivated anything it fell upon, which was currently her son. Barely managing to restrain her anger, she interrupted Francois in mid-sentence, "What do you wish?"

Those eyes she had known so well turned to her, but they were set in a different face, one unmarked by rage or greed. "You are Victoire Maignard, and I would speak with you." It could have been a question or request, but Victoire could tell it was a command. Tight with controlled emotion, she led the way to her small office where she kept the books, ignoring Francois's look of surprise and reproach at her rudeness which would drive away a customer.

Victoire sat behind her small desk, glaring at the woman, who was forced to stand as there was no other chair in the room. While many would have been at a disadvantage due to this positioning, the woman took it in stride, not at all intimidated.

"I see you are angry, so I will speak bluntly. As you already know, I am a Shahrizai. Melisande Shahrizai, daughter and sole heir to Casimar Shahrizai, who has passed to Terre D'Ange That Lies Beyond not two months ago. Among the papers he left behind was a description of your affair with him and your child, my half brother. I came to learn the truth of it." Melisande spoke those words dispassionately, as though she was not talking of a feud of nearly thirty years, gold spent like seed all for the ruin of one family. Knowing what she did now, Victoire realized how young Melisande truly was; she could not have been older than twenty five, but her bearing was as proud and self-assured as Casimar's always was.

"So you have found me. Now what? I did not give in to your father, and I will not give in to you. Francois is my son, and he is a Maignard, not a Shahrizai. Your father tried to take all I had, and I am still here. Do you think you will succeed where he failed?" Victoire spoke in heedless anger, letting all her pent-up emotions free. She had nothing to fear; what more had she to lose? She still had her pride and her family, and Casimar was with his angelic ancestor, if there was any justice in the world.

Melisande looked full into her eyes, and Victoire found herself caught by the force behind them. She shivered; she suddenly felt that this girl was more dangerous than Casimar, who had been too easily ruled by his whims and desires. "My father", Melisande enunciated clearly and slowly, "was a vicious man to those whom he felt had wronged him, inflicting on them what he could of Kushiel's torment. But that was him. I was not wronged; and I am not foolish enough to pursue a pointless vendetta. But I do believe in the ties of blood and loyalty. That out there is my brother, and those are my nieces and nephews. I have need of people I can trust. You may be Azza's scion, and it may be beyond your pride to surrender to any of the Shahrizai; but I am not my father, and your pride will break as anyone's would under the weight of thousands of vats of laundry. I offer you a better option."

Victoire swallowed, knowing Melisande spoke the truth, but not wanting to acknowledge it. She summoned what defiance remained, and demanded: "And what is that option?"

Melisande smiled slowly, and Victoire could not help but shudder at the sharpness of that smile, every bit as sharp as Casimar's flechettes had been. "A future, for you and your family. I will return to you the Maignard lands and enough money to rebuild their finances. You will be nobles once more, and will not have to turn to anyone for money or help".

Victoire narrowed her eyes. She would take it, but… "And what is the price?"

"Swear fealty to me. Swear to serve me when I ask for it, to be true only to me, and to no others. Not the Trevalions, not the Priests of Azza, not the Courcels or even Terre D'Ange. Be loyal to me above all else. And I swear in return, never to harm any of you, by word or deed, if there is no just reason to do so."

Victoire nodded slowly. "You would give all this merely for our service?"

Melisande relaxed, and this time her smile was as brilliant as the stars, happy and carefree. "Blood is thicker than any oath, but if one could have both, why not? You can never be too sure, my lady. It costs me nothing that I cannot give, and it gains me what I do not have. And as my father told me, there is no better blessing than 'be lord over thy brethren'."

And so it happened that the Maignard clan was rescued from poverty, and gained a new patron and family in Melisande Shahrizai. They both swore their oaths, the Maignards by Azza and Melisande by Kushiel; and if Victoire had any regrets, she made sure never to voice them out loud. Melisande was a generous patron; and if her missions were not always quite legitimate, even Victoire's pride could bend somewhat. She had learned better than to fight with a Shahrizai.


End file.
